


Tangible

by hitokiri



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Steve, Crying, Crying Steve, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Mentioned Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Top Jonathan, Top billy, it's a Steve centered threesome from Jonathan's perspective, they just want to do dirty things to Steve forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 11:38:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13234926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitokiri/pseuds/hitokiri
Summary: At some point Jonathan started noticing Steve, but so did Billy.





	Tangible

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, here's some smut.
> 
> I am so sorry for this. It might be the worst thing I've ever written. I just... my entire heart is out for bottom!Steve. I just want him and his big doe eyes to be taken care of. Please.
> 
> I don't have a beta, so forgive any grammatical errors. Thank you.
> 
> I do not own Stranger Things.

He never meant for Steve to be in the pictures. He's liked Nancy for so long; always thought they were somehow meant to be just because both their little brothers were best friends. He thought it would be convenient for everyone if Nancy fell for Jonathan, too.

He didn't want to be creepy. He was just looking for his brother, but she was beautiful. Soaking wet, swimming in Steve's pool, tipsy. And she was beautiful in his bedroom window, taking off her shirt for Steve. She was something to be admired.

It wasn't until after he'd printed the pictures and got a good look at them in the dark room that he noticed Steve's beauty, too. Steve Harrington was an unconventional sort of beautiful. Bright eyes, big smile, perfect hair. He was a boy, but very, very pretty. And as Jonathan sorted through the pictures he took from the Harrington house, he realized there were a lot more pictures of Steve than there were of Nancy.

He was a little sick at the thought, but it also took him a long time to look away from a particular picture, depicting Steve with a big, bright smile on his face as he looked at Nancy.

Jonathan wished Steve was looking at _him_ that way.

It was hard not to notice Steve's presense after that, especially when he was breaking his camera. Jonathan had a hard time trying to keep the lines drawn, to separate at school _tough guy_ Steve from Nancy's _soft boy_ Steve because he kept picturing who he was that night with Nancy. He kept imagining that soft look in his eyes when he smiled at Nancy.

Steve Harrington isn't a great person, but he sure as hell is a beautiful one.

It's not until Billy Hargrove comes to Hawkins that Jonathan has his first taste of bitter jealousy. Jonathan had gracefully stepped back last Christmas when Nancy and Steve chose each other. It had done something to his heart when Nancy handed him the brand new camera that he _knew_ Steve went and bought from the Radio Shack in town. He knew because everybody in Hawkins knew how wealthy the Harringtons were, and Jonathan happened to know how guilty Steve felt after everything. He _knew_.

The camera was a nice gesture, but it made his heart bigger and open to more pain.

But when Hargrove came, rumbling into the Hawkins high school parking lot with the Scorpions blaring through the speakers and everyone's heads turned, there was a change in the air that Jonathan could sense right away. It was a tangible feeling, almost like a dark cloud settling above Hawkins.

He was glad when Steve and Hargrove clashed as hard as they did. It was like a sigh of relief, opening Jonathan's lungs and setting him free. But then he lost track of everything in hopes of revealing all of Hawkins Lab's secrets and saving his little brother. He felt like the biggest dick, skipping school with Nancy just after she and Steve broke it off. He had no intention of stealing her because while she was the girl of his dreams at one point, Steve seemed to take up the hole she left in place when she chose Steve over him. But still, they spent all that time together, they made love because it was something they both wanted. It was comfort, it was safe, for a little while.

Steve protected the kids while Jonathan took care of his family. From what Dustin and Lucas and Max were shouting when they all reunited -- after Jonathan let out a loud gasp at the sight of Steve's bruised, bloody, and broken face -- Steve had fought Hargrove to keep him from hurting the kids. Steve let his beautiful face be marred ( _again_ , Jonathan's mind supplied, _because I did it the first time_ , but this is so much worse) to protect Jonathan's little brother's best friends. Steve Harrington, who never cared about anything but getting into Nancy's pants in the beginning, got himself knocked unconscious protecting four kids.

"It's nothing," Steve had said, but it was something.

And now... now that Steve's bruises had faded, and everything was over, safe, back to normal, Jonathan felt empty. He had time again to take pictures, when he wasn't spending it with Will and Nancy. He didn't have to watch Will as closely as he had before because the kids seemed to drag Steve into their Party. Every time Jonathan brought Nancy home and picked up Will, Steve was sitting in the basement, waving awkwardly at him, looking just as lost as ever. Jonathan's lungs felt restricted every time Steve gave him that half smile.

It didn't dawn on him how much everything changed until he caught Steve and Hargrove in a picture he was taking of the football field in the middle of spring. The grass was turning green again, giving way to the warm weather spreading over Hawkins, and it was refreshing compared to the darkness they all faced last winter. It was a far cry from perfect, but warmth was enough for Jonathan at this point.

It wasn't until he was developing the pictures in the dark room that he noticed the two very male bodies hidden under the bleachers, one pressed against a metal bar, held in place, while the other could do what Jonathan could only describe as kissing him. As the picture cleared, he could make out more and more of the shot. Blond curls, tight jeans, leather jacket and... perfect brown hair that Jonathan spent months admiring from afar, as well as a bright, spring colored polo that only Steve Harrington would wear.

Billy Hargrove had Steve pressed tightly against the bleachers and was kissing him. Jonathan couldn't speculate what exactly was going on, but he knew it wasn't a fist fight.

That got him thinking. How long had that been going on? How many times had Steve let himself be held down as Hargrove had his way with him? Did he like it? Did he like that sort of thing?

Would he let Jonathan do the same to him?

He paid attention after that, more than he used to. In the beginning it was something he didn't dare hope for. Steve was straight, Jonathan had Nancy. It could never work, but Jonathan started noticing little things. He started sitting in on basketball practice, taking pictures. Hargrove called him a creep for spying, but Steve stuck up for him, said he's artistic, to leave him alone, _it's probably for the school paper or something, man, come on_. It warmed his heart and something else, too.

He took pictures every time Hargrove pushed Steve onto his back and smirked down at him. He snapped a picture every time they shared a look after a shoulder check. His hand worked of its own accord when Hargrove would grab onto Steve's sweaty shirt and pull him close to hiss at him when Steve scored a point against him.

After a few practices, he noticed that Steve and Hargrove were always the last to leave the locker room.

He was quiet about it, slipping into the locker room. It wasn't strictly for the basketball team; gym classes shared it too, so he didn't feel too awkward. But what he felt awkward about was the sounds coming from the showers. The water was running, but there were voices, sounds, _moans_ that sounded suspiciously like Steve.

What he saw when he peeked his head around the corner was both shocking and arousing at the same time. Steve's chest was pressed against the tile wall, Hargrove right behind him thrusting... somewhere. They were both naked, but Jonathan could tell that there was no actual penetration. It looked like Hargrove was using Steve's slick thighs as a hole to fuck which, Jonathan supposed, was better than walking in on the man Jonathan seems to have fallen for getting fucked. Steve was enjoying it, though, getting off on it, pressing back against Hargrove and begging. Hargrove had a hand wrapped around Steve's pretty dick and they had a rhythm going.

Jonathan's hand moved on its own, lifting up and snapping a picture before he could get a hold of himself.

They shouldn't have heard it, but Hargrove's head whipped around and his cold, cold blue eyes found Jonathan's frightened ones.

Hargrove pulled away from Steve, who let out a whine at the loss of contact. "Sorry, princess," Hargrove said coldly, "but we've got company."

"Wha- fuck, Jonathan, hey, uh-"

Hargrove was already walking towards him, but Jonathan's eyes were on Steve's flushed, trembling form as he turned around and fell against the tile wall. He was panting and beautiful and _scared_. Jonathan wanted to reassure him but Hargrove was in his face, reaching for the camera with his wet hands. He gripped tighter, remembering the last time he took pictures of an intimate moment, opening his mouth to cover his ass, when-

"Billy," Steve says, a tremor in his voice. It doesn't escape him that Steve called him by his first name. "Leave him alone, Billy. He won't say anything, right, Jonathan?"

"What, this little freak takes pictures of you bending over for me and it doesn't bother you? Never pegged you to be into being watched, Harrington. Maybe I can pay this freak here to film us, huh?" Hargrove's laugh is cold and brutal and sends a shiver down Jonathan's spine, despite the steam in the shower room.

"Look," he starts to say, holding his camera safely against his chest. Steve bought this for him. "I won't-"

"Shut up," Hargrove says. "I know you won't say anything because you may be a freak, but you wouldn't tell on us, right? You won't tell anyone that your friend likes being thrown around and fucked in the ass because he's your friend, right?" Hargrove laughs again and then looks down. It takes a moment for Jonathan to piece together what he's looking at when a slow grin spreads across his lips. "Oh, what do we have here? You're hard, Byers. You were enjoying this, eh?" A finger jabs into his chest, the grin looking down at him smug and cruel. "You want to be fucked too? Wanna beg all pretty like princess over there?"

"Billy-"

"You want me to push you face down and fuck you like an animal, freak?"

Jonathan swallows and closes his eyes. He doesn't know where he musters up the confidence, but he says, "No. I don't have any interest in being fucked, Hargrove."

"Oh yeah?" he laughs again. "Then wha- oh. _Oh_. Byers, you sly little fox, you want to fuck Harrington? You want to push Harrington face down and fuck him? Listen to him beg and scream your name as you make him cry and come harder than he has in his entire life?" Hargrove touches his cheek, but Jonathan doesn't flinch, just keeps his eyes cold on the blues staring back at him. "Or do you want him on his back? So you can see every little tear that slips down his cheek and kiss them away like a faggot? You want his knees on your shoulders, Byers, while you take him apart piece by piece? Is that it?"

"Hargrove, what the _fuck_ -"

It doesn't slip Jonathan's mind that Steve called him Hargrove again. It feels kind of like Jonathan won.

"So what if I do?" he says, with a confidence he didn't have five minutes ago.

Eyes locked onto Jonathan's, Hargrove says, "Harrington, your parents are away, right? We're going to your house."

"Hey, wait-"

"See you there, Byers." Hargrove winks at him and then slips past him out of the showers.

"What the fuck, Jonathan," Steve says, wrapping a towel around himself. "You're with Nancy." He allows Steve the decency to get dressed without eyes on him, but it's hard not to look. Steve is beautiful right down to every mole and freckle on his body. "Now I have to go home to get that weirdo out of my driveway so I can forget this ever happened. Please don't show anyone those pictures. I trust you, man."

It's when Steve is halfway out the door when Jonathan says, "I was serious, you know."

Steve gives him one last look behind him, says, "Then come over," before the door shuts.

He sits in Steve's driveway for what feels like an hour. There's no sign of a blue Camaro, but Steve's BMW is there, clean as it always is. It's warm in the car where it's parked in the sun, but he still doesn't know if he wants to go in or not. It had to be a joke. Hargrove was fucking with him and Steve was playing along, that's all, but the front door opens and a shirtless Hargrove leans against the doorway, a smirk on his face and a cigarette in his hand. Hargrove's shoulders shake on what Jonathan assumes is a chuckle and he disappears from the doorway, but the door doesn't close.

An invitation.

Jonathan gets out of the car.

He cautiously walks through the threshold and shuts the door behind him when there's no sign of immediate danger. He follows the sound of music coming from upstairs -- AC/DC, his mind supplies -- and stands there in silence for a moment, awkward and unsure.

"Get the fuck in here, Byers," a rough voice floats down to him. "Won't keep princess waiting forever, will you?"

He climbs the stairs with trepidation.

Inside the room the music is coming from, Steve is lying on the bed face down, with Hargrove kneeling between his widely spread legs. Steve is trembling as Hargrove trails fingers softly down from the top of his spine and down his back, stopping in between his cheeks. He watches as Steve clenches then relaxes, and Hargrove chuckles, whispering something only Steve can hear.

Jonathan clears his throat.

"It's about time, freak."

Steve turns his head to find Jonathan and smiles softly. "Hey," he says, "come here."

"Clothes off first, Byers."

He obeys slowly, eyes never leaving Steve's. In minutes, he's naked like the other two but feeling more vulnerable than ever before. Hargrove laughs and gets off Steve's naked body. "Alright, pretty boy," Hargrove whispers, turning himself to settle his back against the headboard. "Come here, lie your back against my chest." Steve obeys and Jonathan finds it hard to swallow. Like this, Steve's entire naked front is available for his viewing treasure. He's completely hard in seconds, so much so that it almost hurts. "I'm gonna be nice, Byers, and let you be Harrington's first. Aren't I generous?"

The question comes out without his permission. "His... first? You mean you haven't...?"

"Stuck my dick in his perfect ass?" He trails a large palm down Steve's chest and bypasses his weeping dick in favor of slipping somewhere more intimate. Steve hisses and clenches, arching his back to try to avoid the index finger pressing at his hole. "Nope. I haven't."

Steve is beautiful with his eyes closed, naked and spread wide.

"Now come here and stick that big dick inside this tight ass. Harrington has been begging to be fucked for _weeks_."

His feet are moving without consulting with his brain first. One step, then two, three, and he's climbing onto the bed in between the two pairs of spread legs. He lays his sweaty palms on Steve's thighs and pries them further apart to get a good look. His dick is hard and flush, leaking precum, and Jonathan leans down to lick a bead right off the head. The moan he's awarded with goes right to his dick. He does it again because it didn't taste bad and Steve starts trembling between them.

"That's it, Byers, you're born to suck cock, aren't you? Make him beg, but don't let him come until we've both been inside him." Hargrove's hand fists in Steve's hair, turning his head to the side to kiss him roughly. "Hear that, sweetheart? You're in for a rough night. By the time we let you come, you'll be covered in ours from head to toe." The words send liquid heat right to his dick; he's so hard it hurts. He has to come before he explodes.

While his mouth closes over the head of Steve's pretty, pretty dick, he trails a hand down to his own dick, thoroughly enjoying the thought of coming all over Steve before he fucks him.

A calloused hand stops him. When their eyes lock, Hargrove practically growls, "Do something else with your hands, Byers. You don't come until you're inside Harrington." A bottle is pressed into the palm of his hand, and Billy says, amused, "Put your fingers in him. I want him writhing and crying until he's begging for our dicks."

He doesn't have to listen to Billy Hargrove. He doesn't want to. But he knows that if he doesn't, he'll never get an opportunity like this again.

He does as he's asked. He presses a finger against Steve's hole, pausing when there's resistance. His eyes find Steve's, who says, "It's okay, Jonathan," which prompts him to continue. He pushes against the pucker, regretting the hiss that Steve lets out. Those pretty brown eyes close and Jonathan presses in to the first knuckle.

"That's it, Byers, all the way." He hates that Hargrove is talking him through fucking the man he's wanted for over a year and a half now, but he pushes and pushes until his first finger is all the way in. He feels accomplished, proud of himself, until Hargrove laughs. "He's had three of my fingers in him, just stretch him, he can take it." So Byers does. He rocks first one and then two fingers inside him, curling the way he would do with a girl, and then he pushes in the third. It seems kind of tight, but if Steve had done it before, it's fine. "Good, he's taking it so well, aren't you, sweetheart?" Hargrove kisses the side of Steve's head then reaches towards the nightstand for something. "Here, put this on." It's a square foil wrapper and it makes Jonathan's face burn hot more than anything else has all day, and he's got three fingers in Steve Harrington's ass.

He takes the condom and pulls his fingers out. Steve whimpers at the loss and Jonathan leans down to kiss him for the first time. Steve melts against Hargrove as Jonathan kisses him slow and deep while he slips the condom on his impossibly hard dick. The lube is handed back to him and he slicks himself up. Their lips part and he lines himself up.

"All right, Byers," Hargrove sounds serious for the first time all day. "This is when you have to go slow, or else you'll really hurt him and I won't get to fuck him. Push slow and let him adjust. Got it?"

Jonathan swallows, nods, and pushes. Steve gasps, clenching tight around the head and Jonathan hisses, " _Fuck_." He closes his eyes and keeps pushing slowly. It's not until he's nestled deep in the tight channel, warm and squeezed tight, that he opens his eyes. There are tear tracks trailing down Steve's face and he's trembling in Hargrove's arms; Hargrove who is kissing him and whispering in his ear how good he's doing, how it's going to get better.

Jonathan wants to cry.

"You see why I didn't fuck him, Byers? It would have killed me to make him cry on my dick, but you? You did my dirty work for me. Now I get to see the both of you cry." He's laughing, but his hand is curling around Steve's withering dick. The beautiful boy under him is no longer hard, but his ass is warm and tight and Jonathan realizes he's crying when Steve opens his eyes and brings a hand up to wipe a trail of tears off his cheek. He raises his hand to rest it against the hand on his cheek.

"It's okay," Steve whispers, "I wanted this."

Jonathan doesn't start to move until Steve's hard again, and rolling his hips for him to move. He sets a steady rhythm, fucking into the tight heat while Steve's ankles lock around his waist and pull him closer, deeper, harder. Hargrove is jerking Steve off fast and steady. Jonathan can tell when he's close because he tightens even more around his dick and Jonathan moans so loud it echoes. He pistons his hips faster and faster until Steve is a writhing mess beneath him, while Hargrove latches onto his neck and sucks a dark purple mark into the previously unmarred flesh. Steve moans Jonathan's name, bucking his hips into Hargrove's fist, precum spouting out, and Jonathan knows he's there because he's right there too, but Hargrove changes his grip, moves his hand, and wraps his fist tightly against the base of Steve's bright red cock.

Steve screams in frustration, tears trailing back down his flushed cheeks as Hargrove halts his orgasm while it was right _there_. "No!"

Hargrove whispers, "I told you, princess, me and Byers here get to come first, and I still haven't had a go."

Jonathan tells himself it's the way he clenched that does it, but it's really Steve's pretty tears that make him come harder than he has in his entire life.

He's trembling and breathing hard, collapsed on top of Steve who's crying softly and whimpering in discomfort, but he's beautiful. And when he pulls out of the abused hole slow and gentle, it feels like he's separating from one of his own limbs. He kisses Steve softly, before climbing off him.

Hargrove pushes against Steve's back so he leans forward enough for him to slip off the bed. "Alright, pretty boy, I don't do sentimental or gentle. You just got your first dick in your ass, and now that you're stretched enough you're about to have your second. And once I come, you can too. Hands and knees, baby." The pet names, Jonathan knows, are more mocking, but they grip at his heart because he wishes he had the strength to call Steve names like that. "And you, freak, get under him so you can watch him cry again, I saw how that got you off."

The embarrassment washes over him in waves, but he lies down on the bed, right under Steve. Steve is still weak and shaking, can barely hold himself up, but he manages to lean down and kiss Jonathan soft and slow, their tongues fighting a battle that Jonathan easily wins in Steve's weak state.

"You know, Harrington... Next time I think I'm gonna eat your ass. Maybe make you sit on my face until you're so sensitive you cry again and come all over yourself. Would you like that?" Jonathan knows that he likes that suggestion. He'd love to take pictures of Steve sitting on Hargrove's face, trying to keep balance, until he's a crying mess again. "Byers here would _love_ that, wouldn't you?"

There's no slow transition this time. Hargrove slips on a condom and pushes his dick right in all the way to the hilt. Steve hisses because he's sensitive, his head falling into the crook of Jonathan's neck while he just breathes through the pain. Jonathan saw that Hargrove was thicker, so it's not quite easy, but he knows his boy can take it because he took his so well. But still he feels the hot tears landing on his neck and reaches up to wrap fingers in the sweat-slick hair.

Hargrove starts to fuck him then. He feels Steve rocking on top of him with every thrust, hears every whimper and moan directly into his ear. Steve is panting and writhing above him while Hargrove fucks hard into his already used ass. He pulls Steve back just enough so their lips can lock together, and they kiss through the rough way Hargrove uses him until Hargrove's hips stutter to a stop, he trembles for a moment, and then comes. But before Jonathan can reach a hand for Steve's weeping cock, Hargrove's hand is there, jerking him off fast and rough, until he comes all over himself and Jonathan. It's the hottest thing Jonathan has ever witnessed in his life.

Afterwards, Hargrove lights a cigarette and blows the smoke out the open window, leaning against the wall while Jonathan wipes Steve down with a washcloth. Steve was too tired and used to be able to shower, so Jonathan did the next best thing. Now, Steve sleeps, and Jonathan and Hargrove both climb onto the bed on either side of him and sleep, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Please be kind. I know that there's a lot more top!Steve people out there than bottom!Steve ones. Forgive my preferences.


End file.
